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Does my landlord have to fix a washing machine in a certain amount of time?

2023.03.21 20:48 LeaAnne94 Does my landlord have to fix a washing machine in a certain amount of time?

I hope this is the right place to post this, please let me know of there's a better sub to post in.
I resigned my lease at the end of last year, rent went up around $100, then my washing machine died. I let them know it wasn't working with a maintenance request. They've had someone come out to look at it, then they said they had to order parts. The tech was supposed to be here this morning, and they didn't show up, and my property manager isn't responding to my message.
I know this isn't a life or death situation. It's a luxury item, but I pay for an apartment that's supposed to have one, and I haven't had one for nearly 3 months, after rent was raised. About a month ago, they told me I could do my laundry in an empty unit, so they did give me an option, but it's extremely inconvenient.
Anyone have a similar experience? If so, what did you do? My lease isn't up until December.
submitted by LeaAnne94 to askportland [link] [comments]

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submitted by Osceolafence2023 to osceolafence2023 [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:46 herodothyote A Love Letter to Chicken Bakes: My Undying Affection for a Culinary Masterpiece

Once upon a time, in the faraway land of culinary delights, a scrumptious creation was born. This delectable marvel was none other than the Chicken Bake, and it was destined to capture the hearts and taste buds of many, including myself. In this essay, I shall elucidate my unfathomable adoration for Chicken Bakes and weave a tale of unparalleled gastronomic passion.
The first time I laid eyes on a Chicken Bake, I knew I had stumbled upon something extraordinary. As I gazed at its golden, flaky crust, a divine aroma wafted through the air, hypnotizing me. It was as if the heavens themselves had sent down this ambrosial creation, and I was its chosen recipient. My heart fluttered, and I knew that I had found my one true love.
As I took my first bite, my taste buds exploded in sheer ecstasy. The perfect blend of tender chicken, creamy cheese, and a heavenly blend of spices enveloped me in a warm embrace. The crisp, buttery crust cradled the exquisite filling like a protective parent, ensuring each morsel was a culinary masterpiece. It was a symphony of flavors that danced upon my tongue, and I could not help but fall deeper in love with every bite.
Through the years, my love for Chicken Bakes has only grown stronger. I have searched high and low for the finest versions of this divine dish, seeking out the most talented chefs and obscure eateries to satisfy my insatiable craving. Each time I indulge in a Chicken Bake, it feels like a romantic rendezvous with an old lover, rekindling the passion that has burned brightly for so long.
As my obsession grew, I made it my mission to share my love for Chicken Bakes with the world. I began hosting elaborate Chicken Bake-themed soirees, inviting friends, family, and even strangers to partake in this gastronomic delight. The joy on their faces as they experienced their first bites only served to fuel my ardor further. I knew that I was not alone in my love for this extraordinary dish, and that together, we formed a brotherhood of Chicken Bake devotees.
Not only has my love for Chicken Bakes brought me culinary pleasure, but it has also enriched my life in ways I never could have imagined. I have forged friendships with fellow enthusiasts, sharing our passion and exchanging Chicken Bake recipes, secrets, and stories. These connections have transcended borders, languages, and cultures, proving that the universal language of love truly exists in the form of a Chicken Bake.
In conclusion, my love for Chicken Bakes knows no bounds. They have captured my heart and soul, bringing me immeasurable happiness and satisfaction. The Chicken Bake is not merely a dish; it is a symbol of love, unity, and the transcendent power of culinary artistry. To say that I adore Chicken Bakes would be an understatement; they are, without a doubt, the epitome of gastronomic perfection, and I am eternally grateful to have discovered such a magnificent treasure.
submitted by herodothyote to Costco [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:46 dudenameddev 2 Ranked Teammates!! MUST BE GOLD OR HIGHER

Me and my friend are looking for two ranked teammates. We are both gold and get on around 9pm EST nearly every day
submitted by dudenameddev to mw2ranked [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:46 Majestic_Jazz_Hands My cat did something really bizarre last night and he’s never done anything like this before. Still creeped out and don’t know what to make of it

For context, I’ve had my (male, fixed, indoor only) cat for going on 8 years now and we’ve lived at our (rented) house for four years. We live on a private road that only has this one road to go in or out.
Directly behind my house, it would be next to impossible for anyone to walk back there at night. There’s no light, and it’s nothing but uneven, rocky terrain, with a whole bunch of trees and there’s still a decent amount of snow with a pile of leaves under it. Literally no one goes back there. The section of our backyard that is accessible and flat is all the way at the other end of our house and not where any of this happened.
So, last night, it’s just me and my cat at home. I’m in my room just scrolling around on Reddit when my cat comes tearing ass into my room and runs straight at my window (it’s the only window in my room and it faces the backyard) He starts frantically pawing at my window like he’s trying to get out. I end having to go over and physically move him away multiple times and each time he was like fighting me to get back to the window. Then he just abruptly stops and runs out of my room.
Since I was up, I figured I would go get something to eat. I go into the kitchen. My cats standing in the middle of the floor with his tail whipping back and forth, staring at the window that also faces the backyard. But this window has both the blinds down and the curtains over it. I tried calling him and petting him, zero response or acknowledgment from him. He just stays fixed like that. I’m starting to get a bit weirded out now.
I go into the living room, there’s two windows in there, and they face the front yard. One window is directly in front of me and the other is to the right of that one, also in front of me. There’s a tv stand diagonally from that window. My cat comes running through the living room, onto the tv stand and he sticks his head under the curtain, and his tail is whipping back and forth again.
Then he again, abruptly stops and runs over to the window in front of me, he stands up on his back legs and starts frantically pawing at the window like he’s trying to get out. I’m totally weirded out now and I really don’t want to, but I flip on the front light and look out the window that my cats still pawing at frantically and…there’s nothing. Not a damn thing there. Yay cats staring at something but I don’t see anything there. It’s just the road and then more woods.
Being that we’re surrounded by woods, of course we’re going to have some wild animals, but he’s never acted like that before. Plus both of the windows that face the backyard are thoroughly locked and covered up very well because I get creeped out by the very idea of things in the woods being able to see in at night (I’m a city girl that moved into a wooded area with a ground floor house, I don’t want anything looking in at me when I’m in my bedroom)
It’s like there was something going around my house that approached from the back and came around to the front. Somehow my cat was able to sense it through completely closed up windows and he was trying to get out and go to it. That’s the part that freaks me out the most. If other people, anyone other than me and my mom are near or in the house, he gets very timid. If there’s another cat outside, he just gets pissed. Most little critters around here, he’s pretty bored of looking at em.
Right after I looked out at the big nothing in my front yard, I went back to the couch and my cat just abruptly stopped and then was all super lovey with me. I know cats do weird shit and they get the zoomies, but this was just super weird and nothing I’ve ever seen him do in all the years I’ve had him.
I don’t know what the hell was outside my house last night but the whole thing was kinda creepy!
submitted by Majestic_Jazz_Hands to creepyencounters [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:46 Dorgamund Maura/Maira Homophone

So Tolkien was a dedicated and inspiring linguistics nerd. Maura was the Westron name of Frodo, per JRRTs framing device of having translated the story of Lord of the Rings into English(I am not a Tolkien nerd, I think it might actually be the Red Book of Westmarch, but don't quote me on that.) These are the facts I am surest about, but some of the below is speculation.
At any rate, I saw an interesting tumblr post that was joking that the One Ring is always eventually referred to as My Precious by it's wielders, and made the connection that Mairon was the first name of Sauron, arguably his true name, and that the name itself is derived from the Quenya maira, meaning precious. The joke is that Maira could easily be seen as a shorted diminuative, like a affectionate nickname, meaning while Sauron is going around being evil, his Ring is still calling itself Timmy, or the linguistic equivalent. Nobody notices, because none of the bearers we see refer to it in Quenya, and vanishingly few people have the lore necessary to make the linguistic connection that they are Westronizing(as opposed to Anglicizing) Sauron's nickname.
But the thing I noticed, is that Maura and Maira are very nearly homophones(and potentially false friends), and depending on how rigorous your pronunciation is, you might say that Frodo's Westron name is basically the same word as Sauron's kid name.
But, I don't know either Westron nor Quenya, and so I don't know if they are to be pronounced the same, or differently. I do think JRRT would be capable of writing in that connection, and interested enough in the narrative parallels of having names which at first glance are wisdom and preciousness(also excellence, splendid and admirable) be the same, but when closely examined, are subtly different, and in the end character named for wisdom triumphs over the one named for his preciousness.
I'm sure the connection has been spotted already, but I couldn't find any posts on it, and mostly want to check the pronunciation from anyone who knows how they are supposed to be pronounced.
submitted by Dorgamund to tolkienfans [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:46 NoDrama3756 NP mismanagement of critical care TPN

Iwork in ltc at various ltacs and rehab centers as a a RD. I've been doing this for a few years now. Im close to a breaking point with some nurse practitioners. Especially with EN / PN feeds. More specifically i have 1 NP who just goes behind me and charges all my orders on subjective findings.
Ill have a resident in a critical care setting from burn recovery or traumatic injury mva. She will never let the EN rate above 60 mL/hr based on subjective finding such as "i dont think they can handle that rate" or " they'll aspirate" when someone has a j tube. I bring up aspen and other evidence based guidelines and states that she has been a nurse for x years and know the patient cannot handle it. Im very frustrated.
Im getting a lot of questions from the DON about these critical care residents and significant weight losses at least weekly. I dont want to tell the DON that the NP isn't implementing the diet recs as advised. I have been telling her supervising physician and he will just input my recs as adivsed.
This one NP even tries to adjust the macros and micros for tpn and wants me to correct the electrolyte shift after she alters my recs.
Note; if youre unsure about EN or PN nutrition please ask your local CNSC, RD, or clinical pharmacist
submitted by NoDrama3756 to Noctor [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:45 tinzur Is it worth fixing?

[Backstory: I drive about 0.5 miles to school everyday and 1 mile to work about everyday]
I got a long list of issues with my 2002 Accord SE Coupe:
P0420 : Catalyst System Efficiency Below Threshold (Bank 1)
P0780: Shift Malfunction
the most likely solution is to replace the transmission. Is it worth it and how much would all this run me?
submitted by tinzur to Cartalk [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:45 One-Community3184 That doesn't happen everyday

Near Harriet at Macfarlanes Ranch i saw a bunch of these lying with no other players around so i helped myself happily
so bizarre yet so good for dear Cripps, they wont ban me for this right? for picking something off the ground?
submitted by One-Community3184 to RedDeadOnline [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:45 dukesilverissaxy NALCAP Application submitted!

Hey all! I just submitted my application for NALCAP and am wondering if any current/past language teaching assistants have any info to share about their experience with the application process + actually teaching? When did you receive your acceptance and placement?
A little about me:
- Uni grad '20: 3,6 English Lit / Women and Gender Studies
- CELTA Certified: Pass B
- Teaching Experience: Elementary ed, one year; current ESL professor in Central America
- Letter of rec from my CELTA instructor
- Statement of purpose touched on teaching methodology, motivation for wanting to teach/become a ~global citizen~ (such a cliche term, I know).
- Selected 1) Madrid, 2) Cataluña, 3) País Vasco

Just happy to chat, and I know a lot of information is provided in the FAQ. Nice to talk to folks with first-hand experience though!
submitted by dukesilverissaxy to SpainAuxiliares [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:45 Crafty_Truck_8174 I'm going to a therapist, but does it seem like I may have social anxiety?

I've been feeling anxious and have had issues socializing my whole life, it's about time I try to figure out what's going on. I believe I may have social anxiety but I'm not sure. I'll be perfectly fine and excited to go to work and I do love what I do. But when I'm near a group of people I sometimes start to feel a deep sense of anxiety in my heart, if that makes sense. Like when you feel an emotion deep in your heart but this is anxiousness. Sometimes when I talk in groups or with a person I'll wanna say something and think it in my mind but for some reason every time it's almost like I'm petrified or someone is holding their hand over my mouth keeping me from speaking. What's up with this? What does this mean?
submitted by Crafty_Truck_8174 to Advice [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:45 Jymmy_Jahnsun A Detailed Breakdown on Why Plesioth is The Worst Thing on The Fucking Planet

A lot of people hate Plesioth, me included of course. But if you ask someone why they hate Plesioth they'll usually only bring up the most memorable thing about him, the hipcheck. But there is so much more to him that can be said.
We will start with Plesioth's body. Being a piscine wyvern, even smaller plesioth will stand taller than the average flying wyvern. This means that most of the time you will be striking at the legs. For hammers and hunting horns, you will miss out on headshots unless the head is lowered to attack, and for shorter range weapons you may spend the entire fight hitting the legs, this is very annoying, as unlike brute wyverns Plesioth takes considerable damage to topple. And even if you topple plesioth that takes us to our second issue.
The way Plesioth moves on land is like that of well, a fish out of water. He is the floppiest, most spastic motherfucker I have had the misfortune of fighting. His attacks sometimes come without warning and when toppled he will not stay still, opting to instead flop around like a retard. This leaves his head and tail almost impossible to consistently hit. So you'll probably end up just hitting him in the legs while he's down.
And now, I will describe all of Plesioth's attacks. Because they are all bad. First is his water beam, which has three variations, straight beam, swimming beam, and crescent beam. Straight beam is easy to punish, while crescent beam lifts his head EVEN FUCKING HIGHER. Swimming beam sucks because he spends a few minutes being completely untouchable before MAYBE jumping out of the water, but he's more likely to just beam you. Next up are his physical attacks, the hipcheck, the land swim, and the tail slap. We will start with the tail slap, the little fucking spines on his tail will somehow always hit you, even if you are completely out of the way, making this attack hard to avoid, and harder to punish when he decides to spam it. The land swim turns his entire body into a hit box, and comes out with no warning whatsoever, if you try to dodge he will follow you, because go fuck yourself this Plesioth. Finally, it's the attack of the hour, the hipcheck. This move is rightfully despised, it hits like a truck, and despite having a short window to get away, if he starts it while you are near his legs you can't do much to avoid getting hit. There is a good reason the Plesioth Hipcheck is memed to death.
All in all, I really don't like this guy, and his gear doesn't really look cool either, with the exception of his hammer and HBG. And I found that writing this was a very cathartic experience.
TLDR: Plesioth is an annoying fucking fish that wants to slap you with his thighs and the only thing you can do in retaliation is weep.
submitted by Jymmy_Jahnsun to monsterhunterrage [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:44 porraSV extremely picky cat

My sterile 4 year old female cat is a picky eater and it is driving me insane. She is healthy (vet says so) but damn she is difficult to feed. She is in another phase of not eating anything but freeze dried chicken - I have bought all sorts of dry and wet food mostly drive, royal canine. Some specific for fuzzy eaters some not. I tried other near ver brands, I tried frozen meat balls for cats more expensive than my fancy eating day steak. I tried locker for a bit alone so she could eat. I giver new clean broad bowl every meal. I tried kitten food because right now she is thin nearly looking stray. I tried to stay there and watch her.
I tried everything, even tasting of human food. She might taste it but looses interest after one or two bites and goes do shenanigans. I’m at lost, she only wants the freeze dry and if I stop (i did for 2 days) she only drinks water. She doesn’t even asks for food.
She is recently sterilised (3 weeks) and I thought she would calm down and become better with the food. What can I try? The vet said she is still fine though thin.
submitted by porraSV to CATHELP [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:44 camparisoda13 Psychiatrist in DC area?

Hi all - I’m currently a patient of Dr. Smith’s, but I’m also on an SSRI. I’m looking to taper the medication but want to do so carefully; eg, with liquid doses very slowly. My normal doc currently manages my Ssri script but isn’t too familiar with this kind of tapering, so I was hoping to find a psychiatrist in the DC area to help with this. Just asking here as I’m looking for someone who won’t be off put by me using ketamine therapeutically (though I won’t need them to prescribe it). Any recs welcome!
submitted by camparisoda13 to TherapeuticKetamine [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:43 reprobaddie614 Is it rude to tell a school you’re withdrawing because of cost

I got into my alma mater but they offered me a low scholarship. Frankly, it made me kinda upset. I know we can’t take things personally, but I have significantly better offers at higher ranked schools. I see lots of people on LSD getting better offers from them with lower stats. Which is like, congratulations to those people I’m sure they absolutely deserve it, but why not me :(
Well it’s made me eliminate them as an option completely. Is it rude to tell them that? I would’ve attended a full or near full scholarship similar to offers i have at other schools.
submitted by reprobaddie614 to lawschooladmissions [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 20:43 SeizeThemMemes Visited by something, I think it's pretending.

Long story ahead.
It started when I was just a kid. I'm in my mid 30s now, but that's when it started. I'd like to preface most of this with an obligatory, to the best of my knowledge, I'm not making any of it up. Whatever definitive knowledge I think I've got is based on speculation and heresay. Nothing has identified itself at all, let alone directly. For my own sake, and the sake of related parties I'm going to edit all names from the story(ies). Especially since I'm not using a throwaway or anything. This is going right up on my personal account. I fabricate or hold back nothing this time. Ill be doing my best to cultivate as much accurate information as I can remember, but I'm getting old and don't remember as well as I used to. I can't even tell you how genuinely I consider religion, supernatural whatever, all of it to just be some stuff made up by white men to continue on with the patriarchy. I don't buy into ghosts or any of it.
It started as shadows. The feeling of being watched. My childhood wasn't that great, it was full of physical and emotional abuse from my mother. We lived in my step father's own childhood home, so it wasn't haunted by any ancient ghosts. It was a dark place though, with their history already blotting the air with it's thickness.
I guess before I really go on, I should explain that, too.
My step father was twenty something years older than my mom. So he was in his fifties during my teen years. He wasn't bad, he wasn't great. I guess technically speaking he was a bad step father. We didn't have much of a relationship, let alone a even bad "fatheson" one.
The home itself was an old New England starter home. It was small, as far as modern houses go. Three bedrooms total. One bath, a large basement spanned the entire length and width. By the time we had met him and moved in, he had already mostly paid the house off, buying it from his own parents. Outside of four years in the coast guard, He, his brother, and older sister had all lived there(while they moved away, he stayed)
Their family dynamic was dated, and weird. His mom and dad were the type to call each other "mom and dad" respectively. His sister, even after joining the navy and marrying an officer was required to maintain a joint bank account with her dad so he could have uptime decision making. She had her own creepy qualities when we'd visit. She collected Barbies, never opening them. That in itself isn't weird. Hell, I collect action figures myself. But she had a voice for some of her favorites, and they'd talk amongst themselves if she was in the room. My Step father's brother, was actually an inventor and invented something I can't remember anymore. He wasn't Bezos rich, but had a nice house in Florida when we'd visit. Mom and Step dad both always warned me though to be careful. He was on a lot of drugs.
My Step father himself was a weird man. He was never taught hygiene. And he was never really nurtured or loved, and unfortunately it showed. He didn't know how to do those things, either. He was a nice guy, but had no idea what to do from there. He grew up in the fifties, and as a kid, I just imagined that's why he was the way he was. From a different time.
The legacy of their combined tragic legacy lived on in a ghost that I do believe was in the realitively new house. We lived there total for twelve years with him, however the time is broken up into two different six year stints. Half way through, my mom for whatever reason, moved us out. We lived in a one room efficiency apartment together for exactly one year, before they reconciled and moved back in together. While we were moved out - we adopted a stray cat. Well, he adopted us. We actually found him the very first day we left him on our own. He was a white cat, nearly completely blind. He was just outside our motel door. We took him in with us. He was actually great. We named him Doofus, because he was kinda fun and goofy. He stayed with us the entire year departure, and was reluctantly allowed back with us.
My Step father was a dog person. Awkwardly so. He loved his dog(s). To the point where I'd still say he more made out with them, as a form of affection. It wasn't okay. I'm sure of that. Let me clear something up, while I say all of these negative things about him. It's not like that. While we don't have any sort of relationship now, I believe that's more us both healing from my mother more so than each other. But anyway, let's keep going!
Within a year after introducing the new cat into the house, he had himself quite the affinity for the basement. It was cool in the summer, and kept itself warm enough to be down there without freezing in the winter. It was my home base as a teenage boy in the late 90s, early 00s with AOL internet access. Doofus would often lounge around, and we'd leave him to his own devices while down there. He never disappeared and always came running when we'd shake his bowl of food. That first summer back though, we were, even my step father was, convinced he had worked his magic on a neighborhood feline friend, and had a litter of kittens down there. It wasn't the mousy cries of fresh babies. Certainly a meow that wasn't his though. We thought maybe he had found his way into the walls, or was simply stuck. Inevitably one day it happened with him fast asleep on his window perch in the kitchen. Finally my step dad fessed up what comes to be an important story.
When he was a kid, himself and his younger sister, found a cat. They, with some kind of sitcom understanding of how the world works, brought it home and tried to hide it in the basement to keep. Their father found it and brutalized the animal to punish them and simply disposed of it like it was nothing.
I can't stress it enough how… from that point on, things changed. The meowing from the basement stopped. Forever. It never happened again. However I never felt alone down there again, honestly.
I want to take another brief intermission to point out that at the current point in my life, I've been in therapy and anger management both. I haven't spoken to my mother in over seven years, and I'm barely any contact with my family at all. I had a very good therapist that helped me through my trauma with my mom as a child that continued into adulthood. Most of the information I'm going to share here, and continue to share here are things that modern medicine and science have since explained away. Sort of. I didn't just feel not alone while in the basement of my childhood home anymore, I felt actively pursued. Someone wasn't just always watching, they wanted to be known. I also started to experience night terrors that felt lucid.
I eventually moved out as soon as I could, and moved to Florida. Unfortunately my abusive mother followed. However, years passed from there. Through circumstance, I maintained a relationship with her. I was young and dumb, and didn't know how to set or enforce boundaries. Anyway.
Fast forward to my mid 20s. I had just ended a long term relationship with what was essentially my first "real-life" girlfriend. Things went sour the way things do when you're young, and I ended up moving back in with my mom and her now new husband. It was a very short stay, but while there I fell on hard times with my health. That's where the story here really takes an interesting turn.
Their house wasn't just bad, it was absolutely the worst. It was literally just a shack. The way some of those poor places in Florida are really like. I was home alone. I did have my own private bedroom. It was small, couldn't even hold my bed and the dresser. There was no door. It was an old curtain pinned to the outside wall. The illusion of privacy. It all went from easy enough to explain, to outright bonkers that day.
I was in bed. Doorway clearly visible. The sheet had been pinned to the space above it so it stood open for me to come and go easily. In the doorway was a teenage girl. Shoulder length brown hair. Conservatively dressed, yet modern. She didn't speak. It was over. She was gone.
The same girl came to me two or three days later, same setting. Just standing in the doorway. She seemed far less relaxed. Even agitated. She was holding something but I couldn't make out what. Whatever it was just wouldn't manifest, but it was important to her. Whatever that item was I can't help but feel like it'd all make sense now, but who knows. She stayed for nearly a full five minutes, fidgeting eithcthecitem before leaving. It was only a couple of more days before she came back again, but wasn't alone. An older man. Older then I was at the time, at least. He seemed like her father. They were bickering and fighting about something and she, in her tantrum disappeared. But he stayed and said nothing to me. He made no motion or charades. He did however glare at me this empty, menacing eyes and then vanished.
I didn't see the girl again until the night before I moved out. By this point, I had been drained of the small savings I did have. I was literally starving. Stealing food from Walmart just to keep myself going. I had aloowedcmy mother to drain me of everything. The apparition came to me that night, and the sensation was different. She glowed a warm orange tint. it felt like we were together forever. She still never spoke to me, but shared knowledge. She told me things about myself I didn't know yet. Actual, real life things that wouldn't come to fruition for over a decade, but they have indeed come true. Not even as a warning. It was a parlor trick to prove her abilities to me. I didn't see her again, for nearly 12 years.
It was last year she came back. I wasn't startled, she communicated like we were old friends. By just, giving me the information. I had probably six or eight months prior to that, reconnected with an old friend. The girl told me matter of fact my, "reach out. They aren't okay." Which was weird because we were talking mostly daily at that point again. I knew things weren't perfect but not being okay raised alarm bells. I reached out to find out their dog had passed just that morning. Again not a huge flex of their ability, just enough to keep me hooked.
I was bewildered at this point. I knew nothing of psychics or spirits or demons. Outside of what I seen on TV of course. I didn't even believe in that shit, but I love reading and learning.
Because of the history with my newly rekindled friendship, it was actually my childhood crush - the love of my life. That was actually the context of us becoming friends again. I wanted to work on fixing the things between us so we could be there again. The situation felt ripe by description for either Dr. Phil, or Lilith. Though I didn't know what that was even supposed to mean.
My own research and learning has brought me here, to you. This sub. This long story of ghost cats, and dark places, the meddling of what I thought was Lilith, but I believe to be something else entirely.
You see I've reached out to the girl who manifests. She hasn't been back, but I can still feel her around. So I've worked up the courage to confront her. I ask for identification, and my ears fill with this droning white noise and it'll eventually tell me that shes Lilith, but I'm not convinced. But from the difficulty in expression, neither are they. I believe it's something that latched onto my belief at first of it being Lilith and won't let up on that. I do believe it's "male" in nature. Has a knack for tricks, and knows that pretending to be something it isn't is bad for him, so he's trying to keep it under cover. I also don't think it's here to help me in any capacity. It clearly wants something either from me, personally, or is trying to use me as a vessel.
I think something masquerading now as Lilith has been involved in my life from the house I grew up. It didn't leave me alone, it learned to be less obvious and scary outright. But it's here. It's always here.
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2023.03.21 20:43 graygoohasinvadedme Setting boundaries with new KTP + BDSM partnerships

I’m new here, though not wholly new to poly (in theory) or BDSM (in practice.)
There’s been a lot of sudden life adjustments and moving parts that are making me uncertain of how I feel and figuring out what appropriate boundaries are needed for my health and happiness. Note, I mention transitioning in descriptors only to give an idea of what current physical parts are at play.
I am 33(F/NB), demisexual, married to my partner of 8yrs (37MtF). It’s important to note that due to work conditions we live about 3hrs by car apart and have lived LD for 4.5 yrs. This past September, her nesting partners of 2yrs broke things off in a very negative experience. The relationship as a whole was not smooth and most times I was around them they acted as (imo) close friends and roommates rather than active romantic or kink partners. I do pretty okay living solo (with a dog) but my wife adamantly does not.
This led to my wife moving in with a partner of about 8mo ( in the same city, Molly (30MtF). They get along splendidly and I consider myself friends with Molly. My wife has also gained a boyfriend of about 2mos, Sam(25FtM) who seems okay. I am extremely slow to acquire emotional bonds so I’m moderately comfortable around him.
This is a very, very different dynamic than my prior experiences in a poly situation. My wife is overtly sexual and kinky with both partners. When I visit Molly and my wife’s home, there’s often light play in common spaces (light humiliation, service behavior, and physical intimacy like making out and groping.)It is a small home, 2 bedrooms, an office, and open space for general living/cooking. If all four of us are around, we are on top of each other and privacy is hard to come by. I currently feel like I’d be more comfortable if I had deeper bonds with my metas, but my discomfort over some things makes me disinclined to take long visits. There have been situations where a room is in use (for extremely intimate activities) that I have needed to access to grab work or health related items but I feel uncomfortable interrupting activities.
I need help understanding if my boundaries and requests are valid because I seem to be the only person who feels a need for these items. If anyone could help me workshop them I’d appreciate it.
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2023.03.21 20:41 judgemenot101 Do I(40m) just need to accept that cunnilingus with my wife (37f) is out of the cards?

A comment I made another post made me think of this but my wife and I have been married for 17 years. We both were raised in the Mormon religion, which is an extremely conservative, sexually repressive culture. Her upbringing was significantly worse than mine in that regard. I was 23 and she had just turned 20 when we married and of course were both virgins. We knew nothing about sex or healthy conversations about it. In fact, prior to our marriage, I went to the book store to read some sexual health books and when she found out, I thought she was going to call off the wedding because she thought I was a pervert. Well, we left the religion nearly two years ago and we have been working on processing all of our religious trauma and rethinking everything about what we were taught, including intimacy and sexuality. With this, I’ve been slowly slowly warming her up to the idea of incorporating oral sex. Just to be clear, I consider my self an extremely giving, respectful lover and will always seek consent before we do anything “new”. I let her know frequently how beautiful her pussy is and to me oral sex is outward display of my desire for her and to be as physically intimate with her as possible. On the occasion when she does let me go down on her, I am soft, gentle, and mindful of her reactions. But normally she just clenches her thighs together and is very guarded of her vulva and oral lasts for 20-30 seconds. Only during oral though. During PIV sex, she will ride me like a rodeo girl. On the last time I went down on her I was talking her through what I was doing, kissing her gently, caressing her, telling her to lie back and relax as I lifted her legs slightly to open her up. She told me that when I lift her legs like that, all she can think about is being at the gynecologist. I joked “does the gyno do what I was doing to you??” We laughed and eased the tension and moved on to PIV sex.. but is it time for me to accept that this just isn’t going to be a part of our intimacy?
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2023.03.21 20:41 __bar_code__ [Landlord - NC] Steps to Becoming a Landlord

Hello all,
We are currently living in a townhouse community and are about to close on a SFH. Our plan is to rent the townhouse and the HOA does allow long-term leases. Even though I rented for nearly a decade before purchasing the townhouse (and I was a good tenant, always maintaining the property, and paying on time), I never thought of the process from the landlord's side. I have prepared the following list - could you please comment on it and help me with the process?
  1. Clean up the property
  2. Prepare a lease document
  3. Prepare a way of screening applications (credit check, background check, a way for the applicant to pay the application fee)
  4. Prepare a way for tenants to pay rent (
  5. List the property (,
  6. Select a tenant, go through the screening process
  7. Buy rental property insurance (also known as landlord insurance)?
  8. Have the tenant sign the lease
  9. Pay a 1-month deposit, pay 1 month in advance
  10. Hand over the keys
  11. Verify that the tenant has purchased renters insurance
  12. How to make the tenant transfer utilities in their name? (gas, electricity, water)
  13. Property maintenance: small repairs - myself, large repairs - contractors, hopefully not needed (2-year old townhouse), walls+lot: HOA responsibility
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2023.03.21 20:41 Matitzzz Anyone else “scared” of food?

I feel like I am fearful of eating while dieting. I understand I need to control myself, but also that food is a fuel for my body. I am trying to balance what feels like fear with healthy habits. Has any one experienced this, before?
For example, I really wanted Dominos last night, but even the idea of getting any of it filled me with literal fear of re-gaining any weight I’ve lost. I know that weight loss and weight gain are neither made in 1 meal, but I need some strategies to cope without having unhealthy thoughts about eating.
Thanks all 😊
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2023.03.21 20:41 MuhaEsquire A rewrite of my Chapter 1. Thoughts?

Thank you for reading in advance. Looking for opinions on my Chapter 1.
It had been only several hours since the sun fell over the horizon in Eailorre when the East Wind pushed the storms from the Tempest across the sea to the lighthouse on the Percunian Cape. For Cydol and Davin Tambor, the father and son that operated the beacon, the easterlies at their heights tested their resolve, especially when the storm rolled in at night.
“Davin! Make haste and protect the flame!” Cydol yelled to Davin, who quickly ran up the stone steps that spiraled around the inside of the lighthouse to the top.
Davin hated running up the stairs, as he was inclined to slip on the narrow stone steps at the top. This time, he reached the beacon room unscathed, but the signal was not so lucky. The beacon would be normally protected by the glass panes that surrounded the room during normal storms, but when the remnants of the Tempest would come crashing on top of the lighthouse, the panels needed to be locked. They were not tonight.
The easterly swung open the glass pane that faced the sea. Damn! I forgot to lock it! Davin thought. The sheets of rain fired into the room and onto the fire, decimating the blaze to a faint, flickering glow. The wood that remained was drenched and the ashes were bunched into clumps of dirt with pieces flying and scattering across the rest of the remaining panes that surrounded the pyre. Davin looked through the open gape. Usual sights of airships fishing above the sea were replaced with pitch black nothingness, the cold rain striking him in the face, and the smattering of lightning bolts that lit up the sky as fast as they disappeared.
“Davin! Shut the window! I’ll grab fresh wood!” Cydol yelled from below. Davin saw nothing but could hear his father through the thunderclaps reverberating around him.
Davin grabbed the window and pushed it through the biting gale until it closed shut. He then slid the locking mechanism over the edge of the pane as he held it in place with his shoulder. Relieved that the pane was not shattered, Davin slid his back along the glass and rested on the beacon room floor. His father was not going to be happy about this. He could hear him shuffling below, snatching kindling and logs.
In the twenty-two years of Davin’s life, he lived in the lighthouse on the cape. His father operated it for decades prior along with his mother, who died during childbirth. The lighthouse was passed down from generation to generation, father to father stewarding its beacon to assist the airships and the seaships that traveled up and down Eailorre’s southeastern coast.
I grow tired of this place, Davin thought as he lightly thumped the back of his head against the wall underneath the glass pane.
For Davin, the lighthouse and its surroundings were all that he knew of. He visited Affet, a small burg nearly five miles away, for supplies often and Myrhaven, a larger town that straddled the border of Tarpia, the largest country in all of Eailorre. His trips to Myrhaven were yearly treks for Festival Week with his best friend Erik, who was one of the Second Sheriffs, armed guards dedicated to its protection since the Phoecian Army refused to safeguard the town so far from its capital. This year’s Festival Week starts in several hours and Erik was to arrive to join him a few hours after sunrise.
Father is not going to let me go tomorrow, Davin thought. He’s going to have my hide for not locking the window.
The echo of quick clods began to ring in his ears. At the top of the steps, Cydol stood. Lugging three large logs and a bunch of dry huffwheat, the middle-aged man was soaked, droplets of rain fell from his gray tunic. His salt and pepper long hair, pulled up in a ponytail was just as wet. So was his similarly colored beard, tight around his cheeks and longer on the chin. He had an awful scowl on his face. He clearly knew what happened.
“Get up, boy. We’ve got to clear the wet wood and get these dry logs lit,” Cydol said.
Davin stood and opened one of the windows. The rain began to empty inside the room. He grabbed one log after another, tossing their wet remains into the wind, falling the sixty feet below, splashing onto puddle-soaked ground. Davin fought hard with the gusts trying to shut the window, but was successful in closing the pane. Cydol tossed the dry logs onto the altar and stuffed the huffwheat underneath. He pulled matches from his pocket. They were dry.
Cydol crouched in front of the pile of wood, lit the match, and held it near the huffwheat, trying to catch the kindling with the tiny flame.
"We need more logs, child. Grab some from the stock below," Cydol said as he brushed off the small splinters of wood that clung to his tunic with his free hand.
Davin hustled down the staircase and leapt off with a few steps to go, landing on the dark red and brown trimmed rug that laid on the stone floor of the library.
The library stood at the base of the tower and was the product of the decades his family occupied the lighthouse. While not as large as the grand libraries throughout Eailorre, the library was impressive for a simple lighthouse on the coast. Countless volumes lined the square room’s walls. In his youth, Davin would read many of the tomes while Cydol worked to keep the beacon operational. Reading and writing he enjoyed, mathematics he did not. His preferences were the volumes on regional history, trade skills and the intricacies of economics. The library included books on every subject, except for religion. Cydol despised things he could not see and the stories of the Divine were anathema to the old man. Davin would spend the dark hours of the night settled in the large brown leather chair in the center of the room rising only to refuel the fire upstairs. The dark room was lit by candles in sconces around him and by the two on the thick oak table in front of his reading chair. The library had a primitive fireplace on the southern wall. The stone mantle above was beginning to crumble. Just another chore on the list of things to fix. Next to the fireplace was a pile of dry wood.
Davin gathered three logs and ran back to the stairs, then scrambled up the stone steps. In the beacon room, Cydol kneeled and lightly blew on the flame, nursing it to life.
Davin carefully placed each log on top of one another, successfully adding to the bundle. Cydol stood and fiddled with the vent above the firewood, hoping to add some air to the room to trigger the fire.
"What next, father?" Davin asked.
Cydol sat on the floor and pulled his pipe from a pocket in his tunic. Like the rest of him, it was doused. He shook his head and picked the moist teeweed from inside the bowl, replenishing it with a fresh batch from his tunic's front pocket. Taking one of the matches, he lit the teeweed and began to puff on the pipe. Davin sat patiently, dreading his father's next words.
“We sit and wait." Cydol said as he puffed on the pipe.
The two sat in silence as the fire started to grow. The huffwheat was fully lit and the bottom logs were engulfed. Smoke started to billow, mixing with Cydol’s pipe smoke, and rising to the vent, escaping outside, where it continued to pour.
"Davin, I know that you have been wishing to leave."
"It has been on my mind, father." Davin said as he stared at the floor. He refused to look up. He knew when his father’s gaze was on him.
“Why?” Cydol asked.
Davin folded his legs and slumped forward; his arms felt heavy. “I…I just think there’s something better out there for me,” he said.
A plume of smoke obscured Cydol’s face. Davin could not see his father’s sadness. “Better? What could be better than this? You have a home, you are safe. The world is a dangerous place, my son. Filled with war. Pestilence. Greed,” Cydol said as he continued to puff on his pipe.
“I want to wake in a new land. I want to smell the spices of the Dezian traders and feel the sand underneath their caravans betwixt my fingers. I want to see the Yektow graze on the Plateau at sunrise. I know much, but all I have seen is ink on ragged paper.”
Cydol leaned, matching his son’s posture. “This lighthouse has been our family's duty for many years. My father operated it. His father and his father before that. I understand your ambition, but I need you here with me. I am approaching sixty and I cannot do this alone for much longer."
Out of the corner of his right eye, Davin glanced at Cydol. Father’s pipe was placed on the floor. The old man gritted his teeth as he massaged his left hand with his right. The left was mangled; the knuckles of his forefinger and ring finger were swollen. They were the size of Ollina nuts, bulky and much larger than his other knuckles. The left hand looked frozen, veiny, and throbbing. The hand was twitching and shaking, as if it had a mind of its own.
"I have seen you wince more often. Is it the bone rot?" Davin asked.
"Aye. It limits me." Cydol said as he continued to massage the distorted hand.
"I would like to see more of Eailorre, father. Perhaps after some time away, I will return to run the lighthouse,” Davin said.
"Let us discuss this after you return from Myrhaven. Get some rest. I will watch the beacon and keep it aflame. Erik will arrive in the morning. I have a few errands for you to do beforehand."
Davin perked. "You'd still have me go after my mistake?"
"Aye." Cydol said as he stared into the fire.
"Thank you, father." Davin said as he stood and began to walk toward the top step.
"Despite this mishap… You are improving as steward and you have grown into a fine man. You are worthy of your ancestors, my son."
Davin nodded and left his father for the night.
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2023.03.21 20:41 lina01020 Reverse Harem

My new favorite, flood me with all the recs!
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